1. Caroline A Starring Role #2
“Right,” she said, sounding stronger. “I’m okay. I’ve got this.”
“You had a husband who was MIA, and you cared for your children and held yourself together through all of that. You can do this.”
That wasn’t strictly true. I’d had to sort of manhandle her back to life. But we eventually got her out of bed and, after a week on the water, she carried on. So, you know. Kind of the truth. I heard the car shift into drive, and I said, “Tell me about Emerson’s wedding photographer.”
“Caroline…”
“Sloane, do it. Tell me.”
“Fine. She showed us her portfolio, and you’re right. She’s the perfect person to do the photos. They’re very journalistic in style, not too fussy. Just what Emerson wants.”
“Perfect. And have the bridesmaids’ dresses come in yet?”
As soon as I asked I knew it was a misstep.
“Mine is going to be too big,” Sloane sobbed.
Damn it, Caroline. Get your head in the game.
“We don’t know that, Sloane. Stop. Did Taylor’s and AJ’s ring bearer outfits come?”
“Yes, and they hate them.”
Despite the circumstances, I half-smiled. “Well, that’s good. If the boys hate them, that means they’re beautiful.”
I could tell that made her half-smile too. I exhaled deeply and Sloane said, “Okay, I’m at the doctor’s office.”
“Perfect. I will be there in four hours.”
“Caroline, you can’t come home. You have way too much to do. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. And I’m sure Mom will be back any minute.”
“Sloane, I’ll be there in four hours,” I repeated.
“But how— Oh. Oh, Car, seriously?”
“It’s worth it for you. Go get checked out. I’m sure it’s a false alarm.”
I wasn’t sure at all it was a false alarm. Sloane had lost two babies back-to-back, so we were all too aware that this could be an emergency. I pushed End on the call as Deenie said, “Is everything okay?”
I shook my head and said, “I have to get to Peachtree Bluff.”
“Wedding disaster?”
I didn’t want to air my sister’s personal business. “Something like that… I’m going to be gone for a few days.”
“You know I’ve got this all under control.”
I knew she did. She had handled the summer like a pro with me flying back and forth once a month and doing most of our meetings over Zoom.
My not-quite-ex-husband worked only three blocks away, so I rushed down the street to the Beaumont Fund.
As of last year, James had finally joined forces with his father and brother to create their own hedge fund, and it was going swimmingly.
I was in such a hurry it took me two blocks to realize I had forgotten my coat, a thin cream cashmere with a dramatic scarf that was so beautiful it could bring a tear to the eye—and perfect for the cool-not-cold weather.
I stormed through the sleek glass door and rushed past the front desk. “Hello, Missus Beaumont!” Larry, the security guard, called.
“Hello, Larry!”
“Mr. Beaumont is in a meeting,” he called to me again, knowing full well that that news had never stopped me.
I took the mirrored elevator to the third floor and knew as soon as I stepped out that James, tall, dark, and handsome as ever, sitting at the end of a table in a glass-enclosed boardroom, had seen me. He put up his finger and walked out.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking concerned, putting a finger to his temple—which had just a touch of gray around it—like he did when he was worried.
I might not be in love with him anymore, but no one could deny that that man looked fine in a suit. I had had this one made for him a few weeks ago. I knew it was dysfunctional, but he needed me to pick out his clothes. And now I needed something from him.
“Well, not really.”
“The kids?”
He had seen the kids this morning. We lived in the same building, a few floors apart, and he had popped by for breakfast and to kiss Vivi and Preston goodbye before work.
“The kids are fine. It’s Sloane. She thinks she’s having another miscarriage.
” I paused. “Or, well, at twenty-three weeks, I guess she’d be delivering a baby.
” I put my hand to my forehead, the weight of the horror of that possibility sinking in.
My mind was racing. “And Adam and Mom are out of town, I guess?” We didn’t know whether Mom was out of town, but she was MIA, and I didn’t have time to get into all that.
He looked genuinely concerned. “Oh no. Poor Sloane. I’m so sorry.” He looked confused. “And?”
“Well…”
Now he looked annoyed. “And you need the company plane to fly home.”
“Well, I wouldn’t ask but—”
“Caroline, you always ask. Always. The company plane is a privilege for my wives who aren’t divorcing me.”
I summoned a sweet smile. “But since we aren’t technically divorced yet…”
“And you will explain this to my father? He is not going to be happy.”
I nodded eagerly. “Promise.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll get you a car to Teterboro.”
Sure, he was a cheater, but the man wasn’t all bad.
“Could the car maybe run me by Emerson’s set and then home to throw a few things in the suitcase?”
Emerson had recently scored a starring role in Slightly South, a television series about three thirtysomething sisters from Georgia trying to make it in the big city.
It was supercute. She finished filming soon, and I was sad because I wanted her, her fiancé Kyle, and my niece Carter here with me.
LA was way too far away. And, come on, it wasn’t New York.
James looked something between annoyed and amused as he said, “You cannot continue to do this to me.”
I smiled again and started to walk away. But then I turned back around and said, “Oh my gosh!”
“I can take care of our children, Caroline.” He paused. “If you can return my plane in a timely fashion, I’ll fly with them to Peachtree for the weekend tomorrow. No point in your coming back.”
I paused. Now that he didn’t have a house in Peachtree, that would put him staying with us. But, well, it was a nice offer, and I was in a hurry. So I gave him a small hug, which he deserved. “Thank you. Truly. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Then why are you divorcing me again?”
“Well, you know, I mean, I don’t know what I would do without you as a human, not a husband.”
I texted Leah, our manager at Sloane Emerson’s Peachtree Bluff location, as I walked back out onto the sidewalk, where James’s car was waiting: Is Mom there? Her phone is off.
She texted back right away: I don’t know where she is. She blocked off the calendar for a couple days? Maybe she’s taking personal days.
Mom didn’t take personal days. And certainly not from her daughters. As I slid in, allowing the adrenaline of the last few minutes to wear off and sadness for my sister to sink in, it hit me: Where in the world was my mother?